Today is the anniversary of the day that we celebrated the Daddy's birthday. He would've been 112 this year. The Daddy was born on July 15, 1905, but most of his formal papers show July 25. This is my theory for the discrepancy: His baptismal document, the only legal paper he had about his birth, was in Spanish, the primary language of the Philippines back then. Spanish was not the Daddy's family's first language. And, I suppose nobody cared when the Daddy signed a contract in 1928 to go to Hawaii to work on the sugar plantations, nor when he joined the Army during WWII or he became a naturalized U.S. citizen. When the Daddy was born, the Philippines was in transition from being a Spanish colony to a United States territory. The Daddy said that when he was a baby his parents ran him up into the mountains to hide during the war. The Daddy was surprised when I told him that it wasn't Spain the Filipinos were fighting, but the United States. I'm not sure if ev

I don't think I'm there yet—a succulent crazy mama. I did go to a succulent and cactus show a couple months of ago. It was something to do. It was free. And, yeah, okay I did buy $30 worth of plants, which I finally planted in that ceramic planter above.  The purchases were the orange and red moon cactuses, that spiny looking tree, the cactus with the tiny white flowers on the right that's blending with the white rocks, and the succulent in the metal planter on the left. Maybe that little succulent in the center of the bowl. I can't recall. I also can't remember if I kept their name tags. Yesterday, I dug out the Mama's spindly looking aloe vera plants in the back yard. They were nesting next to the apricot tree and geraniums,  getting too much water and not enough sun.  I thought I would plant them today in a sunnier part of the backyard, but I felt too tired. Maybe tomorrow morning, I'll at least stick the largest plants into the ground, and a few

The Humans watch a lot of British black comedies because the Missus Lady loves the quick, dry wit of the British writers. They don't even have to try to be funny, she says.  I don't know what she means. Purrrrrrr. I hear no complaints from the Hero Man so he must think the same way. The Legend of Barney Thomson (2015)   Setting: In and around Glasgow The Missus Lady says this film is wonderfully absurd. The main character is meek, bland barber Barney Thomson who has no customer service skills, so over the years he got pushed further into a corner where no customer wants to sit. One evening after the barber shop closes, Barney and the manager have a heart to heart about woeful Barney that ends in an inadvertent push and shove, the manager dead, and a finally living large Barney. It was an accident so why didn't Barney quipppp just say so instead of hiding the body? Hero Man says if that was the case, there would be no movie. Because the shop is shorthanded, Ba

Come See the Strange Thing! Posters called out to the Husband and me once upon a time at the county fair. Only a Dollar! How could we resist? We walked up to the counter, plunked down our two bucks, and entered the tent. Pictures and articles were plastered on the wall. I didn't want to read. I wanted instant gratification. Where is the Strange Thing! ? Then. . . . Eeeeeeeeeeeew! On display was a shriveled up something that looked like a dried up armadillo. Yuck . The Strange Thing! was said to be a blood-sucking creature called a chupacabra. Was it real? Qué sera, sera? The Internet mostly says the chupacabra is an urban legend, but that doesn't keep the curious from conducting field research. Years later the Husband and I crack up whenever one of us brings up The Strange Thing! Have we learned our lesson? Will we plunk down hard-earned cash to see the next Strange Thing! at a county fair? Qué sera, sera? By the way, we have our own little strange th

Molly the Cat can't stand the heat. Neither can the Husband and me. Nor can the computer. The last couple of mini heat waves were simply high temps. Now Mother Nature has added another element—humidity. (Or is it us humans that has created the change?) Bleack . It's very unusual for our neck of the woods. Poor Molly under all that fur. She looks at me and questions why I'm not doing anything about the heat. Kweippppp! Time to hook up at All Seasons , a weekly meme open from Sunday to Wednesday, hosted by Jesh at Artworks from Jesh StG. Click here to join in or to read the tales of other participants. Thanks, Jesh!